


Fields of Flame

by Nehasy



Category: Tenkuu no Escaflowne | The Vision of Escaflowne, Vision of Escaflowne
Genre: Burninating, Child Soldiers, LOTS of violence, Mild Language, Pre-Series, War, playing with fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nehasy/pseuds/Nehasy
Summary: Dilandau is dispatched to help spur on a lieutenant bogged down in battle and gives it, in his own special way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Vision of Escaflowne, it's characters or any of the battle tactics used within.
> 
> This is from the four word prompt "I won't let you"
> 
> This is part of the Dragon in the Ashes universe and takes place prior to the television series. It's one of Dilandau's first assignments under General Adelphos.

                “You’ve been fighting this battle for how long?”  The scrawny albino child burst out in the middle of the strategy meeting.  All of the officers gathered around the table froze at the rather impressive amount of scorn in the high pitched voice.  “Battles should be exciting and beautiful.  This… this is just a boring mess.”  The child huffed, leaning forward to flick at one of the stylized maquettes, “killing” the 24th battalion of the Copper Army.

                “How DARE you!”  Lieutenant Iason snarled as his hand dropped to his dagger, ready to slit the throat of the little beast.  “I don’t care who General Adelphos thinks you are.  You’re nothing but a scrawny little pissant still fat from your mother’s milk.  If you dare speak again, I’ll slice your throat.  This is a war strategy meeting, not a daycare.”

The three other officers and their corporals in the tent grumbled their agreement, glaring at the child they’d been saddled with.  In the twenty whole minutes since the pint sized terror had brazenly strolled into the command tent, bearing papers from General Adelphos himself, he’d been nothing but a pain in their collective asses.  Somehow, someone had decided that this… child would bring a fresh perspective to the battle and had authorized him to have the same rank as Lieutenant Iason who had been leading this particular battle since Captain Jaken had been killed by an enemy guymelf two weeks ago. 

The adults had all instantly dismissed the brat as some high ranking officer’s spawn, or worse, judging by his looks, he might be some officials bedwarmer, deciding to play soldier.  It was sick what some people got up to, but Iason hardly had the rank to say much.  Still, just looking at the smug brat’s look of boredom made him want to run him through.

“Are you sure?  So far your strategy seems to involve nothing but losing ground and time.”  The little boy yawned widely, hardly appearing at all threatened by the increasingly hostile looks he was getting. 

The child was a pretty thing, too pretty as far as many of the soldiers were concerned.  He stood out like a beacon with his shining silvery white hair and alabaster skin, paired with elegant aristocratic features which left no mistake that the brat came from fine breeding.  What truly drew the gaze and sent most seasoned soldiers reaching for their weapons were the brat’s crimson eyes.  Unnerving and ill-omened colour aside, no child should have eyes that burned with such fire.  Not even the lieutenant dared to hold their gaze for long and that only further infuriated him.  There was no way he’d back down to a child of twelve.

“The 49th battalion is being pressed on two sides and has been under siege for over a week.  They need you flanking the enemy, not squabbling over some stupid valley no one cares about.”  The child huffed in a bored sounding voice and casually flicked over the maquette representing the Cesario guymelef advance unit with his finger. 

“Why you little shit!”  Sergeant Tiol drew his blade and slashed down at the child, fully intending to remove the insolent brats arm.  Before the blade could even begin it’s decent, the child had leapt up onto the table, scattering the left flank of the Copper Army to the four winds and had a knife of his own pressed tight against Sergeant Tiol’s throat.  From his new perch, the brat could now meet the adult face to face and he leaned forward until their noses nearly touched.

“That’s hardly a way to speak to your betters, Sergeant.  Now, what is the punishment for attacking a superior officer with a weapon?”    The tent was deathly silent, no one dared to move.  “I asked you a question Sergeant.”  The child was smiling, eager to hear the answer and the blade of his knife pressed in just a little bit harder, drawing a bright line of crimson across Tiol’s throat.

No one dared move a muscle, their eyes locked on the scene unfolding in front of them.  The child’s smile grew wider, showing too many teeth.  He looked so utterly delighted with how things had unfolded that Iason half expected the brat to burst into a fit of giggles as Sergeant Tiol swallowed shallowly and spoke in a soft voice.

“The punishment is death.” 

“Convenient then that I already have my knife at your throat.”  With that, the boy slashed across the Sergeants throat, the hot spray of blood splashing across his face and spattering across the map, leaving thick crimson smears in its wake.  Tiol fell to the floor, his legs twitching spastically as he struggled to hold the wound closed his mouth opening and closing like a fish.  The sound of his breath bubbling forth from the gaping hole was hideous to hear and Sergeant Danner staggered backwards, covering his mouth as he retched.

No one else dared to move as the boy insolently flicked the blood from his blade and twirled it almost playfully in his fingers.

“You there, corporal.”  The silver haired demon glanced over at the officer who had been standing a respectful distance behind Sergeant Tiol.  The woman in question swallowed nervously and snapped to attention, her previous sneer in regards to a child attending the meeting forgotten as her grey eyes fixed on the little murderer.

“Yes sir?”  He smiled at her respectful tone. 

“Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you sir.”  She gave the child a crisp nod and stepped forward, doing her best not to look at her still twitching predecessor who lay at her feet. 

“Now, is there anyone else who takes issue with my being here?”  The silver demon’s voice sound almost sweet as he spoke, the blood on his face however killed any illusion of innocence he might have.  No one stepped forward or said a word; most wouldn’t even meet his eyes.  Iason chose to glare at the now bloody map rather than look at the pint sized beast.

“Good, now that we’ve got that settled, I’m going to propose a new strategy.  One that will secure us a win by sunset tomorrow with minimal loss on our side.”  His tone, while sounding almost jovial made it clear that no one had better dare challenge him.

Iason listened in growing horror as the plan was outlined.  As the child promised, it was simple, it was brilliant and it was viciously ruthless in every sense of the word.  He’d been fighting wars since he’d graduated from the academy fifteen years ago, and he’d never witnessed something so utterly cruel in his life.  Yes, it would work, he had no doubt about that, and it would obliterate a large chunk of the enemy forces… but at what cost? 

“You can’t do this.”  He stated as he slammed his hands down on the table, glad that the bloods spray hadn’t reached his side of the table.  “I won’t let you.”  As the words left his lips, he braced himself for an attack, his hand grasping the handle of his sword tightly.  The child simply looked at him in mild amusement, the way one would with a particularly stupid animal that’d finally learned a simple trick.

“Of course you will Lieutenant Iason.”  He all but purred, those crimson eyes narrowing as they bore into his.  Those eyes were too old, too cruel to belong to a child.  This silver gilt creature standing in front of him was a demon, he had to be!  “You’re going to stand aside and let me finish this fight for the same reason that you haven’t gained a single foot of ground in over two weeks of fighting a vastly inferior foe.”  Leaning forward, the child’s smile was full of predatory glee.  “You’re a coward.”  He hissed softly.  “You’re so afraid of making a mistake that you stand there waiting for opportunity to fall into your lap.  Only, that’s not how the world works and I’m not going to stand here and let you waste the lives of our troops while you learn that little lesson.”

Brilliant crimson eyes met hazel and held the gaze without wavering. Seconds ticked by and no one else in the tent moved a muscle, each one waiting to see who would draw their weapon, and who would die.  Unsurprisingly, it was Lieutenant Iason who broke first, turning away sharply, swearing loudly.

“I’ll have no part of this attack!”  He snarled angrily, sweeping the maquette pieces off of the map with his hand, sending them scattering across the tent.  “You’re insane, and so is anyone else who follows you.”

“But no one will ever follow a coward.  Remember that Lieutenant, because you’ll never see a rank higher than what you have right now.”  With that the child turned to look at the now clear and blood smeared map with renewed interest, motioning the other officers to gather round.  They did so without hesitation, stepping around the corpse of Sergeant Tiol without comment.  “You are dismissed Lieutenant.” The boy murmured absently.  “And take the corpse with you, it’s beginning to stink.”  Thoroughly cowed, Iason did as ordered.

 

The following dawn saw the two opposing companies squaring off yet again, only this time, a brilliantly gaudy crimson guymelef stood out in of the troops rather than the lieutenants own machine.  The foolishly bold pilot had seemingly strayed away from the rest of the soldiers.  There was a dangerously wide space between himself and his troops as he openly taunted the enemy leaders, mocking their weapons, their soldiers and their bravery.  Upon hearing the voice of a mere child piloting the lone guymelef, the attack order was given and the enemy charged.

The Cesario guymelefs surged ahead, eager to trample the childish intruder beneath their feet.  Behind them followed the melef’s, cavalry and foot soldiers. 

As the enemy advanced, several of the Zaibach units pulled back, choosing to distance themselves from their suicidal leader.  The grey armoured infantry were the first to move, followed by several of the alseides units, leaving only a handful of the foolish, brave and obviously mad to meet the charge head on.

The lead Cesario guymelef, a towering white and gold monstrosity bearing an impressive halberd in its hands had nearly reached the lone crimson alseides when the Zaibach guymelf pointed its arm at the ground rather than raising them in defense.  A bright gout of flame shot out from the top of the arm, striking the ground just in front of the enemy. 

For a moment, it looked like a foolish move, the last one in a rather short life; at least that is until the wall of fire shot up around them.  Brilliant flames spread faster than the eye could follow.  Fed by the large amounts of oil which had been soaking on the field since the night before, they quickly engulfed the advancing units in their searing heat.  Even as the shocked Cesario pilots began to scream, the other Zaibach units began to add to the fire with their own vicious attacks until the entire field of battle was nothing but flame.

Above the screams and the roaring of the flames, the delighted laughter of a mad child could be heard echoing mockingly through mechanical speakers, chilling the blood of all who heard it.

There was no escape for those caught in the trap.  Their open visors allowed the heat to burn their faces, blinding them even as they cooked alive inside their war machines.  Those who didn’t die quickly enough were cut down by the Zaibach alseides whose closed and crima filled cockpits provided for greater temperature regulation, protecting the pilots within.

The Cesario foot soldiers halted their charge, their ranks breaking quickly as they scrambled to get away from the growing walls of fire and the death within.  As they turned to retreat, they found their escape completely cut off by the very units which had originally pulled back, flanking them neatly.

Disheartened and horrified, the battle was ended quickly as the surviving soldiers surrendered, their minds unable to fully grasp the horror they’d just witnessed.  Their losses were extensive, consisting of the entire guymelef and melef platoons as well as over half the infantry.  Zaibach’s losses were negligible.

Lieutenant Iason watched it all unfold from his scope, safe in his own unit standing at the edge of the valley.  Even from this distance he could feel the heat beating against the hull of his guymelef and shuddered.  He’d been told stories of demons that stalked and killed those who opposed the Emperors perfect future, but never in his life had he ever expected to meet one.  Now, watching that crimson beast walk out of the flames, hull smoking ominously and the battered and charred remains of a melef impaled on a crima sword, held aloft like some grizzly standard, he knew without a doubt that they existed.

Was this what would herald in the new and beautiful future they’d been promised?  Their utopia of peace and prosperity?  Was the road to paradise truly paved in the blood and bones of the dead?  Unable to answer, Lieutenant Iason bowed his head and wept for the future.

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of see Dilandau as the type to not really want to waste time with arguments about rank and what not when there's shit to be burning. Whether he actually cares about the soldiers dying in a needless drawn out battle is his little secret, but hey, it sounds good and helps smooth things over after you've just murdered someone. He's such a little diplomat. \^_^


End file.
